Me and J.B.
When I was a little girl (really little, think six and seven and eight), when I finished school, my mom and I would sit down and watch Murder, She Wrote reruns on A&E. We'd eat popcorn and and I'd curl up, safe in the knowledge all was right with the world, because my mother and JB Fletcher were in it. For those of you not in the know, Murder, She Wrote was (and is) an hour long cozy mystery show that ran 12 seasons (and four tv movies) from 1984 to 2003. In it, a small town English teacher turned successful mystery novelist (played by legend Angela Lansbury) solves crimes that confuse police, befuddle private eyes, and bewilder the CIA. It baffled my mother a little that I wasn't alarmed by the constant parade of death that seemed to trail this elderly woman where she went. "Was I afraid?" She'd ask. "Did I know it was all just pretend?" Of course I knew! I was a bookworm from infancy, and narrative was my bread and milk. Before I had even disc...